


crying obsidian

by kyotoc418



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Dysphoria, Gen, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, OOC, Self-Harm, Trans Character, Trans Male Character, Trans Ranboo (Video Blogging RPF), author is somewhat projecting mayhaps, mans just not having a good time huh, no beta we die like tommy to a raw potato, nothing actually happens he's just thinking about it but I forgot to put a tw for that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-18 17:48:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29986590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyotoc418/pseuds/kyotoc418
Summary: Endermen looked mostly the same. That was a fact. The biggest difference you would ever find between endermen was that some of them had wavy purple markings etched onto their limbs, like the sides of crying obsidian. Some of them didn’t.For Ranboo, this was a problem.
Relationships: Ranboo & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 196





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> (I wrote this on march 3rd, so sorry if there’s lore i've missed since then. This is fairly ambiguous timeline-wise, though.)
> 
> idea by enby-ralsei on Tumblr

Endermen looked mostly the same. That was a fact. They were all identically lanky and long-limbed, with their faces covered in shadow. The biggest difference you would ever find between endermen was that some of them had wavy purple markings etched onto their limbs like the sides of crying obsidian. Some of them didn’t. 

For Ranboo, this was a problem. 

You see, female endermen (or at least the ones assigned female at birth) all had the purple markings on at least one of their limbs. It was just a thing among the species- just like how some male birds had brighter feathers, or how moths would have different patterns depending on gender, endermen would either have the markings or monochrome skin.

Unfortunately for Ranboo, him being both a trans man and an enderman hybrid meant that he had them as well. His right forearm was covered in the purple markings, lines in an iridescent pattern spiraling down towards his wrist. They looked like the branches on a chorus tree, or like some kind of fractal, tracing mesmerizing whorls and scattered lines atop his skin. They really did look beautiful. 

God, he hated them so much. He just wanted them _gone_ , wanted the skin clear and dark and _normal_ instead of having the nagging reminder that he wasn’t born right so painfully obvious. He wished that at the very least, they were a little easier to hide without acting suspicious. He’d taken to wearing long sleeves all the time, even in L’manberg’s summertime heat, because someone might notice his arm and ask about the markings, or even worse, have read up on endermen and know what they meant instantly. And if anyone found out what the marks meant, they’d think he was a _girl_ , they’d know he was lying, they’d know he’d been _lying to everyone_ , they’d hate him, and he’d have nowhere to go- so he just wore long sleeves. That was an easy fix, right? If he was just really careful to never let anyone see him without his iconic suit, no one would ever find out. 

With all that considered, it wasn’t the smartest thing for Ranboo to be standing in his neighbors’ house with his sleeve pushed up and silent tears burning tracks down his face. He was looking at the marks again, eyes tracing the shimmering lines and no recollection of how he’d gotten in this state to start off with. Idly, he noted that he should probably stop looking at his arm if he didn’t want to have a complete dysphoria-induced breakdown, which would absolutely not be ideal, but he couldn’t stop. He couldn’t look away. 

**_Look at that. You look like a girl,_** hissed a voice at the back of his head _._ ** _You can’t even wear a t-shirt without destroying any chance you had at passing. It’s so obvious that you’re not a real man, so why do you even bother? Why do you bother lying to yourself and to all your friends? You’re a fucking fraud, Ranboo. You’re just pretending._**

 _No,_ a more rational part of his thoughts retaliated, _no, I’m not lying. I am a real man._

**_Really?_ **

_Yes._

**_That’s not true. That is not fucking true. You are a girl because you look like a girl and you can’t change that. Why do you even deny it at this point? The truth is literally under your skin. The only reason you have those is because you are a girl and you cannot change that._ **

_No, no those don’t mean anything, that’s not right-_

**_You know it’s true. Only girls have those. Why else would you have them, if you’re not a girl?_ **

_I-_

At some point the more rational edge of his brain had shut up, leaving him alone with the crippling dysphoria and then he couldn’t do anything but stand there and sob quietly. 

God, he hated those markings. They made him need to hide. They made him cry sometimes, if he caught sight of them on a bad day, and then his face would hurt and everything would be worse. They made him want to scratch at his skin until scars obscured the constant reminder that he was not born right, that he was not fucking _normal,_ and that he had to hide from all his friends and they were all going to hate him once they found out. They made him so fucking wrapped up in his own mind that he didn’t even hear Philza’s footsteps coming up behind him. 

“Ranboo? What’s that on your arm?”

Ranboo yelped, violently tugging his sleeve down and turning around to face Phil. Fuck. Phil _knew. Phil_ _saw the marks on his arm, he was done for, Phil was going to figure it out, he was going to hate him, he was going to kick him out, he was going to tell everyone that Ranboo was even more of a fucking freak of nature than they already knew, and everyone was going to leave him because he couldn’t be trusted oh God he was going to be alone again and he deserved it, he deserved it, for not paying enough attention, how could he have been so fucking stupid-_

“...hey, shhh, take a deep breath. It’s ok. You’re ok.” Ranboo brushed stinging tears away from his eyes, looking up at Phil. The elytrian’s hand was on his shoulder, tethering him back to reality, and he was kneeling over him with a worried expression on his face. Ranboo didn’t remember falling down. Why was he curled on the floor? Why was Phil so worried-

“Ranboo, you’re hyperventilating, mate. Can you breathe with me?”

He took a shuddering breath in and tried as hard as he could to calm down and stop choking down air. Little by little, with Phil’s reassurance, his breathing began to even out. 

Eventually he got up off the floor and Phil got him some water, once he was certain he could hold a glass without spilling it. He could feel Phil’s eyes still on him as he drank, which didn’t help with the anxiety at all. Phil _knew._ He knew and Ranboo had no idea how the hell he was going to get himself out of this one. 

“Ranboo?” Phil started. “Can I ask you a question? You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

Ranboo took a long sip of water and wiped more painful tears off his face. He had a pretty good idea of what the question was, and he did _not_ want to answer. But Phil was probably certain at this point, so avoiding the subject would probably just be worse. Fuck it. He’d tell him.

“Okay.”

“Alright.” Phil took a deep breath, concern in his eyes. “Ranboo, are you hurting yourself?” 

Ranboo choked on his water. That… was _not_ what he was expecting in the slightest. “No! I’m not, I… what made you think that?”

“I’m sorry, but I saw lines on your arm, and then you panicked when I tried to ask you about it, so I kind of jumped to conclusions.”

Ranboo shook his head. “I’m not- I’m not doing that.” Never mind that he might have thought about it before. 

“Then what was that on your arm?”

The enderman hybrid sighed. He hesitated before rolling up his sleeve for a second time so that Phil could clearly see the patterns on his skin. “I’m uh-” he stifled another sob that threatened to break out. “I’m a trans guy and uh. No one knows. And- well, you know how female endermen have uh, marks like these on their skin? I have those too. And I kind of hate them and I didn’t want you seeing that because, yknow, I’m not out to anyone, and-” He cut himself off again with another sip of water, not trusting himself to speak. 

Beside him, Phil nodded, his face unreadable. “Hm.” 

Was Phil mad? He didn’t look mad, but that could change in a split second. Was he going to kick him out? Ranboo desperately hoped he wasn’t going to kick him out. He had trusted Phil, after all, but then again if Phil was angry at him for lying then he’d-

“Sorry you had to come out that way, mate.” said Phil, looking at the taller hybrid with a kind gaze. 

What.

“You’re not- you’re not mad?” asked Ranboo in disbelief. He’d been scared to death of anyone finding out, but Phil had immediately reacted with kindness. He hadn’t been expecting that.

“Of course I’m not mad. Nothing to be mad about,” Phil reassured him. “I was just worried something bad was going on. But I wouldn't be mad at you for being trans, or whatever.”

Despite the tear tracks on his face Ranboo smiled. 

Also an ms paint drawing of what i imagine endermen markings look like 

ms paint my beloved

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> part two because I'd rather write this than do algebra homework

Okay. Ranboo could do this.

He was going to go out to the beach with his friends, and it was gonna be just like old times, and he was going to play volleyball on the sand and eat ice cream and build sand castles with everyone and lie in the sun- 

And he was going to wear short sleeves. Something he hadn’t done, ever, in living memory. Fuck, he was nervous. 

He looked at the shirt, not daring to put it on just yet. It was simple, really. Just a shirt. Even though he hadn’t worn anything besides a suit and jacket in what felt like forever, even though the thought of letting anyone see the marks on his arm was absolutely fucking terrifying, he was going to do this. He could do this, he reminded himself. He was gonna be with his friends. No one would notice, no one would care, and even if they did, Technoblade had told him that anyone who made an unwelcome comment about the marks would be killed without hesitation. Ranboo wasn’t sure he was joking on that one. He looked at the shirt again.

Fuck. 

He could not, in fact, do this. 

He grabbed a white sun shirt with long sleeves and put it on instead. This was good. This was ok. He reminded himself that he didn’t have to do anything that made him uncomfortable, even though he logically knew that no one would give a shit what he wore. It was a day at the beach, after all. He was gonna have fun. 

Maybe someday he’d feel like wearing short sleeves, and he’d be confident enough to do it, not out of a sense of obligation but just because he truly was comfortable in himself. But right now, Phil was knocking on his door to ask if he was ready to head out and Fundy was on his communicator saying that he and Niki and Tubbo had arrived at the beach, and Ranboo was determined to have a good day, so he looked in his mirror one last time and went off to join his friends.

Maybe someday. But not today. 

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> haha writing down your inner monologue verbatim go brrrrr  
> i’ve been having a gender crisis for the last 5+ years so c!ranboo is gonna suffer for it
> 
> don’t forget to drink your water and have a good day lads :)


End file.
